Any Means Necessary
by Silver Orbed Lioness
Summary: Hermione has had an accident in the time turner department during the battle of Mysteries and wound up in 1968. Instead of concentrating on getting back to the future she decides to shake things up a bit. What she does not count on is being shaken up herself, by her enigmatic boss and his even more puzzling friend.


**Any Means Necessary**

**DARK LORDS**

**POISON FEST**

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**Theme**: When We're Alone

**Pairing**: Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger/Abraxas Malfoy

**Title**: Any Means Necessary

**Summary**: AU They find Hermione hiding in Abraxas office. Unfortunately for her by Abraxas Malfoy and Tom Riddle Jr. With Abraxas lusting after her and TRJ being a sexual creature – she's in trouble.

Thank you **April W** for Beta-ing this for me.

**Word Count**: 4,475

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**Any Means Necessary**

**Year 1968**

Her boss was up to something, she knew it. Hermione Granger was not considered the brightest witch of her age for nothing. After an accident in the Department of Mysteries when she was nearly 16. Hermione had found herself back in time and had no other option but to live out her years in the past. Heaven knew what would happen when she was _actually _born, but that could be when the madness would begin. However, she calculated 11 years of sanity left. She could have been fine if she was an ordinary little witch, who wanted to learn ordinary things and be an ordinary wife.

Not her though, she was placed in Ravenclaw for a start, a house that encouraged showing off. She had made friends with Gideon, Fabian and Molly Prewitt. Two of three would be dead in her lifetime, though she would do anything possible to keep Molly's brothers alive. She was slated to be Matron of Honour at Molly's Wedding for crying out loud. After making it through her N.E. she graduated a full honour student, with awards to her name. She had already meddled in the relationships of some people.

Her job required her to sort out any disputes between the mixed marriage of Muggle and Magician. Over the four years in the past she had grown in beauty and confidence – that was why she was working under an umbrella organisation that was headed by Abraxas Malfoy who often brought his son into work in the holidays and, for some bizarre reason, the child Lucius immediately liked her where the adult despised her.

Just a few days ago, Lucius puffed out his chest and declared to the few in her office that she was his future wife. Lucius was precocious but not as spoiled as Draco. Even in his youth, she had seen glimpses of the man he was going to become, the hard lines of his mouth, the aquiline nose resembling how strict and narrow his life would become. Now he was a thirteen-year-old and had realised witches are separate sex. She had heard gossip about him always being a player, and that was certainly shining through in his youthful self.

Yet this story is not about a boyhood crush on one of his father's employees; this story was about her boss and her boss' friend. A man she'd not met but had heard a lot about amongst the other women of the office. The enigma of the boss's friend had set the once friend of Harry Potter and the Ravenclaw in her, to wonder at the mystery.

Mystery… what other words were there for Mystery? Thriller? Mind Puzzle? Mind Maze?

She could not think but there was something about Abraxas Malfoy that made her brain itch like she'd heard his name from the future and knew he was Lucius father – they looked too much alike to be otherwise – Abraxas had often made overtones towards her. Inviting her to his Manor where he was a lonely old widower. _Not that old_, she thought kindly.

Then, one night, she had to stay behind as she had not completed the insurance claim she had to file on a case of a Witch abusing her muggle husband. Not that this was taken as seriously as it would be if it were a Wizard with a Muggle wife. As far as she was concerned abuse was abuse. _Frailty thy name is_, that should be the quote. Men were just as vulnerable as women.

She knew tonight would be the only opportunity to find out why her mind seemed to short circuit around Abraxas Malfoy, apart from the obvious, she'd read the name, knew it from somewhere. Flattered as she was that he'd approached her on the day of Graduation to work for his firm, she had been ignoring that itch long enough. Now was the time to walk into Mr Malfoy's office, rifle through the files, because all it would take was finding something personal. A photo of baby Lucius and his dead wife were not personal enough.

A deep breath was released steadily from her lungs as she approached the forbidding, carved oak double doors, pushing the handle down on the right side slowly, so as not to make a noise. He walked through and lit the candles in the sconces on the walls, watching the flickering shadows flirt with each other eerily on the walls. Her face, now bathed in light, was eager to get this over with. The drawers on his mahogany desk were warded heavily and it would take her forever to break them, but she tackled them one layer at a time.

At least in the muggle world, she could just use a crowbar. Less refined maybe, but just as effective. The Gryffindor in her liked the simplicity of the crowbar.

Sweat dripped down her forehead, crawled down her nose, and fell on her lips or chin expanding as it went. She was on the bottom drawer when she heard the rattle of the doorknob she quickly hid under the desk as the only option.

"Are you sure no one is here, Brax?" a deliciously dark voice asked.

Abraxas sighed, "Just as I said, my Lord, everyone's home."

"Why are your sconces lit?"

"I told my secretary to switch them off," the irritability in Abraxas tone reached Hermione's ears.

_My Lord_, she wrinkled her brow, there was only one set of people she knew of that said those two words to one snake-like person. Merlin, she was stuck between the two Proverbials now. For such a huge monstrosity of a desk, the makers had little thought to naughty employees frightened of being caught. She had to scrunch her back up as far as it would go against the hardwood, a splinter was poking at her back, she felt it prick her skin. Her knees were pressed into her chest, her chin resting on the top of the kneecaps, her arms wrapped around her shins, her nails digging into her calves. Toes curled into her Mary-Janes, her entire body stiffened as the stranger's legs came into view, the black trousers wriggled, suggesting the man had put a hand in his pocket, the back of the knees bent forward meaning he'd perched his bottom on the edge of the desk. A clink of glasses and the clear sound of liquid – drinks were being poured then. _They'd be here for a while then_, she surmised, _best make sure you're as quiet as the dead_.

"I can smell something," my Lord said. She may not fear the name but that did not mean she wanted her thoughts screaming out. "Are you absolutely certain we're alone?"

"Should be," Brax replied, "the only person here could be that delicious little witch I hope to become Luc's stepmother sometime."

"Are you certain of her blood?"

To her surprise, her boss snorted, "Come now, Tom, it's just us here. We're power seekers – leave the fanaticism to the Black family. That little witch has more power in her tiny toe than most so-called Purebloods out there."

She heard the squeak of leather shoes and watched as a black string entered her vision. So, they'd just been to a black tie event then, Hermione rattled her brain trying to think what they could be celebrating.

"So, still have not got into Hogwarts then?"

"No, and with that old windbag, I'm never likely too."

The shoe kicked back and any closer his heel would have connected to her toes. Trying not to whimper, Hermione curled further into herself as much as she could. Her boss would not stop talking though, and soon she heard the squeak of the chair and another pair of legs, caging her in. It would be fine if he did not push his chair in, however, knowing how the night had gone so far her luck was not in. This proved true as she watched the wheels push in. If she could have, she would have groaned aloud with frustration. Being caged in was not part of the plan. Of course, only Harry could be quick enough to escape or not breathe or, in her case, not remember her historical facts.

Only now, when she felt like a mouse trapped by two cats, did she realise where she'd heard of Abraxas Malfoy before and that was from the history books. When they were researching the chamber, and she'd looked through yearbooks from the time of the award. Abraxas Malfoy was mentioned only second best to Tom Riddle Jr in intellect and, oh joy, were such bosom companions that only HE could get away with calling the Dark Lord Tom. A privilege she was certain he granted to few of his supporters, even those that went to school with him.

"I know you have said that no one is here, but I do not care how delicious your employee is, she cannot hear what we are saying – so why don't you go out and look. We cannot be compromised now of all times, can we?"

"As always, my Lord, your wish is my command."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth at the sound of the door clicking shut. Five minutes, that is all she needed, she could thump him with a silencing charm at the back of his knees and use the element of surprise to get out of the situation as graceful as possible. Just as she was contemplating a Vespa Jinx, she took that moment to glance up into the darkest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hmm," he said, "you've been caught I believe the rules are simple. You must crawl out of your hiding place and reveal yourself."

She knew he was right and that caused her to send a mutinous glare up at him as she was forced to crawl on her hands and knees out from underneath the safety of the desk. The blush that stained her features intrigued him, "My, Brax, you are right she is a delicious little thing. I can quite understand the power. I could feel it vibrating off you the whole time. I see magic."

"Who are you?" she asked in a brazen mood.

The man opposite her tilted his head to the side, his lips were pursed in approval as were his eyes gleaming happily. His eyes were searching for her own she glanced up and felt shy and placed a few coils of hair behind her ear in a Lavender-ish manoeuvre that she cursed herself inwardly for.

"Well, she's not on the floor and…" Abraxas had walked in the moment she was about to reply, "What are you doing in my office."

"Spying I shouldn't wonder, so this is the girl you desire above all else?"

"She is so beautiful," Abraxas said in defence. "How can I not desire such a transient butterfly." Unsure of whether she should be flattered or not, she scowled until he said the next line. "I forgive you for whatever it is you were doing in here – I feel I have to because my son will be disappointed to not see the witch he considers his future bride."

Abraxas Malfoy was teasing her, "Ah, so she captivates Malfoy Men – a true witch of pure power. Like attracts like," Tom had joined in, "and such a captivation, Brax."

"W-what are you doing?"

"Making sure what we are about to do, does not leave this office," Abraxas had caught the gleam in his friend's eye, he reached a hand out to tuck a stray coil of hair behind her ear. "You must understand my business with Tom is extremely private."

"Y-you wouldn't want to touch me," she stammered as she felt hot breath fan down her neck.

Frightened she turned her head and found Tom had moved forward and swept aside her hair to reveal and revel in her slender slope from nape to shoulder. A hot pair of hands had fastened themselves on her hips whilst another pair wrapped around her ribs, firmly stroking her abs and stomach whilst Tom had pressed his lips on the edge of her right shoulder.

"Come on, my dear," Brax leaned forward, his steel grey eyes on her lips, "you heard what I said. Power is what I seek, and you marinate in it," then she felt the tip of his nose stroke hers before sweetly caressing her lips. "Please, allow me your tender flesh – your femininity – allow me your grace and your lust."

Her throat had dried up when Tom furthered Brax's statement, "Allow us to have you," she felt Tom's hands on her back, slowly undoing the zip kissing every inch of skin he revealed.

Brax pushed the sleeves down revealing her black lace-covered breasts – the stark colour brought out the cream-hued tones of her skin. Tom was a good foot taller than her, and Abraxas was at least 6ft if not some more. She felt protected with these Goliaths sandwiching her between them. From his position, Tom was able to see her entire body and she felt the smirk against her neck as he began pressing insistent kisses around her nape and shoulders, his hands had travelled from the hips to her butt. She felt him massage the globes. Impatiently he flicked up the skirt of the dress over her hips.

"Matching undergarments," Tom sighed, "my weakness."

He played about with the sides of her panties, his fingers sending shivers down her spine, she had given up at this point. Fuzzy though her mind was through lust and the promise of sex with two beautiful men she had to remember that they were Dark. That one was a Malfoy and the other was the _Dark Lord_.

"Stop please, let me take a breather and inform you of certain facts that may make you want me dead."

Tom then used a finger and wound a thick lock of her hair around it, then used it to pull her head back baring her entire throat to Brax, the man immediately took the hint and licked up and down the column on either side.

"Tell us whilst we corrupt you thoroughly," Tom said in her ear. Abraxas had yanked down her straps whilst Tom expertly flicked open the back. Stepping back Abraxas then peeled the bra off her and his eyes glazed over in a sheen of lust that took Hermione's breath away. "Explain whilst my comrade sucks on those damask rose peaks. Swallow one whole, Brax."

She squirmed in their grip as her boss bunched her breasts up in his large hands deciding which one to attack. After scant deliberation he settled on the left, wrapping his tongue around the puckered teat, then opened his mouth wide and suckled her breast. His cheeks had hollowed to allow room and Hermione was mesmerised by the sight of such a powerful man on her breast and she rolled her head back, moaning in delight.

"I came back in time," she murmured.

Tom viciously pulled her head around and devoured her mouth just as she finished the last syllable of the last word: "How far?" Tom asked gasping for breath. She heard the clunk of a belt, one of her own hands was touching something soft and silky and found that she had unconsciously started stroking Abraxas hair. She watched through heavily lidded eyes as the blond man pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. Then she winced at Tom pulled at her hair again. "I said, how far from the future?"

"My parents are still young, I haven't been born yet!"

The hunger in Tom's eyes sparked fear in her heart, some must have glimmered through her eyes because Tom laughed. A cold chuckle that, for some odd reason only known to her body, made her clench and have a tiny orgasm.

"How long have you been in the past?"

"F-four years," she stammered when she felt a hand cup her sex.

"Do you feel that?" Tom asked, "do you feel my friend's hand on your sensitive flower that has yet to truly bud? Do you feel his fingers push the fabric aside whilst they are burying themselves into your sodden seam, oh and his thumb on your clit? Do you, Future girl?"

"I-I do," she was prevented from looking as Tom held her neck against his shoulder. "I feel his fingers probe me, spreading me wide open, and I feel one pushing itself in, mmmm," she ended in a moan, light-headed and giddy. "I-I feel."

"Just feel, Hermione," Tom's hand spread along her throat whilst the other was stroking her dry breast, "that's it. Moan for him, for me, you're ours. Say it!"

"I'm yours, all yours," she could barely whisper as she felt Brax work her to a frenzy with his hands, then she felt a different kind of pressure, "ah what's that?"

"Have you never been licked down there before?" Tom asked, "are men of the future incompetent, is that why you're in the past? To get some real men? Feel this, Miss Hermione Granger," he grabbed her wrist and pulled it around her back to feel his tumescent bulge. It was unfair, the Dark Lord had to be well-endowed. "Moan, moan for us!"

She moaned loudly for them, "That's it," Abraxas groaned, the effort to bring her to a climax was now his primary concern, "say our names, go on, say our names as we own you. Because we do now. We own your body and soon your soul. _Moan_," he grazed his teeth along her sensitive and throbbing clit.

"Abraxas," she managed to draw out in a piercing whine. "That's it, that's it, THAT'S IT! YOU'RE THERE, MORE MORE MORE!"

"Do you feel the effort he is putting into worshipping your tight, perfect little body, Hermione, do you? Say 'yes, Tom'!"

"Yes Tom, I do!"

"Do you feel my ache as I stand behind you unsatiated? Say 'yes, Tom'," he licked the lobe of her ear.

"Yes Tom, you have been patient," she sighed as Brax used just his hand to help her ride out her orgasm.

"Abraxas, you may stand and watch, or, if you'd rather, leave. You will have a lifetime to fulfil your desire for her, I will desire her from time-to-time. Brothers share, do they not?"

Abraxas stood up and looked remorsefully at her half ravaged body, her head rolled around her drooping eyes were smoky with desire as she caught sight of the other man's length.

"Turn around, Hermione!"

Abraxas decided not to watch, and he bowed to his Lord, leaving them alone.

"Now we're alone," Tom murmured. "I will take you on this desk, now I want everything off, but the heels and stockings left on."

"I feel I should be afraid," her lips trembled with anticipation of what was to come next as she wriggled out of her dress eagerly watching as Tom's eyes turned violet with lust. "Why aren't I afraid of being alone with you?"

Tom had shucked off his shoes and toed off his socks. Two undone buttons of his shirt revealed a small v of hair across his chest, as well finely-toned muscular structure. A sneak peek before the live show. Something she was soon treated too as he hurriedly pulled it over his head; not even ruffling his thick, lightly gelled, salt and pepper hair as it remained beautifully pristine, unruffled, and dignified. Hermione was almost jealous of the control he'd held over everything. The fact that he was close to her own hair made her realise he liked women to have thick, bushy locks to grab onto. Bellatrix Lestrange for example.

"Because I approve of you, dear one, you will be amongst my favoured and courted as such. Now, I want you naked and coming on my balls as soon as possible. I wish to see _all_ of you! Ask me 'what do I call you when I come?', Hermione."

Where this submissive side of her came from she did not know, she hated it but felt compelled to act on it, her legs trembled beneath her at the idea of not being in control, "What do I call you when I come?"

"You call me Tom when at height of climax, My Lord when I am servicing you with hands or mouth."

Immediately, and wandlessly, Tom vanished every little knick-knack on Abraxas' desk to give them room. She gulped as she watched him tug down his tight white pants, his erection peeking through the crotch area. Even now she was not afraid of giving herself to the Dark Lord. Hell, she did not know if he had figured out the name Voldemort yet. What was mortifying to her was that she was not running, or screaming from the office, that if she did she'd fail in a test she was not aware she was partaking in. A nervous limp caught in her throat as she realised she would have to lower her own sodden panties, the backs of her knees hit the edge of the desk, she had no other option – she had to lean back on the unyielding surface. The fire was enough to keep her warm but under the heat of his stare, she was positively melting. Then, like she was hypnotised, she hopped up on the desk, using her hands to do so then felt the damp underwear press against her clit, already throbbing with anticipation. Her fingers hooked around the waistband. Frightened of what he might do if she left his gaze Hermione kept locked on his beautiful, but treacherous countenance, she slowly pulled down the panties, leaving them hanging at the ankles, wary of taking the final move.

"I'm not a virgin," she blabbered out in a squeaky voice, betraying her nerves. "I have had lovers in the future. Just er, so you um, know."

"I'm content that I'm not the only one who has sheathed his sword inside you," Tom smirked, the firelight dancing hypnotically in his indigo stare caused her legs to quiver and heat to pool inside her, the wizard did not even have to touch her to make her come. "Hereafter though, the only other person I shall tolerate to be buried within your secret is Abraxas."

Her hair had practically stood on end due to the electricity and magic sparking between them, "I want to be kissed by you," she said quoting Marilyn Monroe.

"Nobody else but you," he whispered before crashing his lips to hers, a prelude to covering her sweaty, quivering body. "Alone!" he panted after a thorough exploration of each other's mouths, "I hope you are truly ready for a decent ride," he said as he lifted her leg up on his shoulder, then he ripped right into her. She screamed as she felt torn in two by the foreign object, tears ran down her face and he bent down to lick them as they fell. "I love the taste of tears, Hermione," he pulled out an inch, "and I intend to taste yours often," sharply jerking into her causing her to cry more. "I will hear you scream often," he pulled out giving her temporary relief, "you will sob," he said through gritted teeth. sweat starting to fall from his brow with the effort, in spite of the slight throbbing of harsh agony, Hermione still felt her body respond to his in a delicious manner, "You will enjoy it and call me, My Lord, begging to come!"

"I do!" she screamed, the slapping of balls against her naked bum resounded through the office.

The erotic echo did more to make her hips rise to meet his, her other leg snaked around his waist, the heel of her shoe dug into the centre of his back with each thrust. Fingernails dug into his arms drawing blood, staking a claim on him in some way. The crimson dew drops seemed black in the fire lit room.

"You do, what?" he growled after a particularly heady thrust.

"Wanna come!" she exclaimed, her mind and mouth too slack to speak properly, "Please."

It was then he pulled out of her: "You do, want to what, Hermione?"

"I wanna come, please, my Lord, please Tom!"

She had no eyes on him, therefore, she did not see the red gleam in the centre of his pupils, "Of course, my Lady, I will let you come."

He crawled over her body like he'd done before, pushing her arms behind her, keeping her wrists together clamped tight in his commanding grip. Without being asked to, her legs spread wide open, her feet now firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

"Look at me," she asked in a husky voice.

A small sliver of a smile crept along with his features, "With pleasure, as I take you!"

Their eyes locked, panting, Tom began earnestly riding the witch, high to lust painted skies. Their bodies covered each other's, they were so close nothing could reach between them. There was no room for words even as he pounded into her, rocking the legs of the desk up scraping it along the floor – even with it being made of hardwood. Such was the force of their passion.

"MY LORD!" she yelled. "MY LORD!"

"COME, COME, COME!"

"YES, YES, YES!"

Breasts ached, hips probably bruised, flesh blushed due to their joint exertions.

"THERE, THERE, THERE," she guided as loudly as she could as he brushed aside her hair to kiss her, gulping down her cries, then licked her sweat as their skin rubbed against each other, juices mingling irrevocably.

"MY LOOOORD!" she screamed so highly pitched that her sides fluttered and clenched around his length providing him with the friction he needed.

A noisy grunt of her own name mixed deliciously amongst one last final scream from her as they both climbed down from their high. Heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire the only sound filling their ears, admittedly, he had lingering tinnitus from how high she sounded when coming. She definitely was not ready for round two, her head fell to one side and she slept.

* * *

The Headmaster sat back stroking his beard: "You think he suspected nothing?"

"No sir – I was flawless as the jilted lover like you asked."

"This Hermione is from the future; can we check the veracity of that statement?"

Abraxas smiled as he reached into his pocket, "Here is all the proof you need, found this in her purple clutch. A smashed up time-turner."

"Hmm, well then," The Headmaster of Durmstrang leaned forward. "Where do we go from here?"

"I think the way is clear, don't you?"

The sound of malicious laughter rents the air as Headmaster Grindelwald sat there, de-aged, and ready to take over once more.

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**AN**: This may go somewhere, it may not. If it does she will end up with at least two Dark Lords...


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